


Executioner

by American_Oddysey



Category: Dragon Quest Series, Dragon Quest XI
Genre: Dragon Quest XI Act III Spoilers, Hendrik feels bad about literally everything that's going on, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, also this is probably one of the longest things i've written, but it's heaps better than how he felt in act ii thats for sure, he's coming to terms with sylv being a clown, little salty about it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-14 18:34:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29796111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/American_Oddysey/pseuds/American_Oddysey
Summary: The real weapon was the friends we made along the way. :)
Relationships: Graig | Hendrik/Sylvia | Sylvando (Dragon Quest XI)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	Executioner

Hendrik felt his stomach drop with the loud clap of the stone doors closing behind him and Sylvando. No. No, Yggdrasil, this cannot be happening. He could not handle being alone with this man for long enough to go through the entire Kingsbarrow, knowing full well that the monsters here were exponentially stronger than they were before. This is what Don Rodrigo has meant, wasn’t it? Leave it to the general to not figure that out before it was too late. The knight turns and looks at the heavy doors, sealed shut. His job was to protect the Luminary, and he couldn’t do that from the other side of this door. Though it didn’t take a genius to figure out that those doors weren’t budging.

“Well you don’t need to look so horrified, honey.” Sylvando says dryly. Hendrik’s rare emotions were easy to read if you knew him well enough.

“I did not agree to this.” Hendrik’s brow furrows as he turns towards the minstrel, light squeaks from leather against leather as he clenches his fists.

“That’s not what I remember,” Sylvando rolls his eyes. “But sure, that’s fine. Let’s just get this done so you don’t have to worry about an ol’ failure of a knight like me, huh?”

Hendrik scowls. “Do not put words in my mouth.”

Sylvando leans back, crossing his arms. “I don’t believe it’s that much of a stretch to say that’s exactly what you were thinking when you confronted me in Puerto Valor, no?”

It was. It absolutely was. And it puzzled the general how Don Rodrigo wasn’t absolutely enraged with Sylvando. Hendrik would have been, had it been him in the retired knight’s position. It had been years, though Hendrik still hadn’t found himself getting over that Sylvando chose the circus, of all things, over being a knight. “I do not need your accusations, minstrel. That won’t do us any good.”

Sylvando gives a hum, looking just as thrilled to be alone with Hendrik as the other did with him. 

Hendrik lets out a frustrated huff, leading the way into the catacombs. At least he knew his way around here, having been assigned to guard Heliodor’s treasures early on in his career. 

“Hendrik,” Sylvando is reluctant to follow the knight, waiting by the door, making Hendrik stop only a few steps down the stairs. “What’s your problem with me?”

Hendrik frowns. “I don’t know what you’re implying.”

“Of course you don’t,” Sylvando shakes his head. “I’m not blind.” The entertainer walks up to Hendrik, refusing to make eye contact with him. “Well, lead the way, Mister Hero.” He says, somewhat patronisingly.

“I don’t have a problem with you, what do you expect me to say?” Hendrik looks up at Sylvando. All he could see was Norberto. It irks him.

“You’re terrible at lying.” Sylvando says pointedly. “Do you want to get this stupid trial done or not?”

The knight wanted it done as soon as possible, actually. He doesn’t say anything further as he descends down the stairs. He didn’t remember the bricks crumbling this much beneath his feet. He gets to the base of the stairs, looking out over the pit that made up the first room. Also not something he was used to. He guesses a lot could change in nearly twenty years. He glances back towards Sylvando, making sure he could handle himself before taking a hard right, going down the hallway and immediately running face first into one of the several demons that had made their home here. He’d seen a few of them, but they were small. This one, however, was not. 

Hendrik barely had time to reach back for the greatsword secured on his back before he was knocked to the floor, nearly all the way back to the staircase. 

Sylvando doesn’t bother making a comment- though the knight knew he wanted to- before he draws his pair of swords, ready to attack before Hendrik stops him. The knight pulls the minstrel down by his wrist, growling out a “I can handle this on my own” before he gets up, properly drawing his weapon and charging at the demon. A good, well-placed blow would send- … Hendrik back to where he just was, ears ringing, sword clattering on the ground in front of him.

“Hm, maybe the point of the trial is that we work together? You know, like my papi said?” Sylvando gives Hendrik a knowing smirk.

Hendrik growls, though is in no position to argue. 

The entertainer presses a hand to Hendrik’s chest, runes lighting up on the new golden armor that was already getting scuffed up, Remidheal, probably? Hendrik wasn’t completely sure what spells Sylvando had at his disposal. Hendrik didn’t know about a lot of spells, regardless. “I’ll weaken him for you, darling.” He sounded mocking. 

“I do not need your help,” Hendrik grumbles, pushing himself up with a pained grunt. He could walk it off. 

“Ah-ah, no you don’t.” Sylvando pushes Hendrik back down by his shoulder. The knight didn’t fight back because of the bad hit he’d taken to his abdomen. Had he not been winded, it would have been like trying to move a brick wall. “Unless you’re willing to buff me, darling.” The minstrel winks, turning back around to face the demon. 

Hendrik wasn’t going to let Sylvando just get himself killed, though. That wasn’t something he wanted to see. Hendrik wasn’t Jasper. The knight pushes himself up again, casting one of the few spells he knew over Sylvando. He knew, at least on some level, that the entertainer could have handled the fight himself. He was more than capable of it. He was capable of it years ago, why wouldn’t he be able to, now? Hendrik does prepare himself to step in front of Sylv, if it looked like the lithe man would get hit. 

As expected, Sylvando was more than capable of taking it down. Of course, it took a few more hits than Hendrik would have liked, but the entertainer was quick and cunning, the antithesis to him, and the antithesis to what Jasper had believed. “Thanks, honey~” Sylvando purrs, tapping Hendrik’s armor. “I didn’t need it, but it’s the thought that counts.”

Hendrik didn’t like how close Sylvando was, pushing past him with a huff. “Don’t do that again.” He says over his shoulder, not clarifying what he actually meant.

Sylvando’s brow furrows, but he trots up to Hendrik, following him further into the Kingsbarrow. The minstrel had never actually been here himself. Barely even heard of it before his father had brought it up. It must have been famous among proper knights or something, Hendrik clearly knew what it was. He seems familiar with it. 

Said knight stood his ground a bit more when it came to the other monsters in the dungeon, though still didn’t seem keen on letting the minstrel into the fray. As the dark fog settles and disperses- the remains of another monster- Hendrik sheathes his greatsword, though gives pause when Sylvando says something.

“You know, you don’t need to protect me,” Sylvando comments, though it sounded genuine, now. “If that’s how your mind works.”

Hendrik doesn’t really answer, though doesn’t ignore Sylvando, either.

“I’m not… incapable of fighting for myself. You know this.”

Hendrik frowns.

_ The wooden sword poked gently into Hendrik’s abdomen, his arms up in the air as he was stopped from placing a very heavy blow onto his opponent. With the contact of the training sword to his body, the round was over, and he’d lost. _

_ “I’d recommend putting a little more thought into how you fight,” Norberto gave a laugh. Maybe he didn’t mean it to be insulting, but it felt that way. “Brute force isn’t always going to give you the win.” _

_ The recruit had just gotten cocky, that was all. He shouldn’t have expected to win against the Don’s own son. Hendrik let his arms fall back to his sides. _

_ “Don’t look so upset!” Norberto said. “You just need to account for nimbler foes. If you can’t land a hit on them, they can tire you out, and get a hit back.”  _

_ Hendrik would have said something. Had it been anyone else, he would have. But he couldn’t find the words. He couldn’t just snap back at the younger teen. All he could do was give out a quiet “yeah.”  _

_ The recruit received a soft look from Norberto, and he couldn’t ignore the flutter of his lashes as he looked up at Hendrik. “You’re okay, right?” The heir’s soft fingers ran over Hendrik’s fist, which were white-knuckling the training sword.  _

_ His heart skipped a beat and he stepped back, then again. “Yes. I’m fine.” Hendrik shook his head, turning on his heel and tossing the blunted sword with the others. He needed a moment. _

“… I’m well aware.” Hendrik says, if not for the acoustics of the dungeon, the minstrel wouldn’t have been able to hear him. He felt… very conflicted about Sylvando. But he’d treat him like any other member of the party. That was the goal, at least.

“Are you?” Sylv steps in front of the general, cocking his head to the side. “You took a little while to answer, honey.”

“Do you really feel the need to call me by pet names?” Hendrik asks, changing the subject.  _ Please just go back to being argumentative. Please. _

“Hendrik, really.” Sylvando gives the knight a concerned look, reaching forward and taking the larger man’s hands in his. “What’s your problem with me?”

“Do I need to repeat myself?” Hendrik can’t look Sylvando in the eye. “I don’t have a problem with you.”

“It’s because I left, isn’t it?”

Hendrik tenses, and Sylvando knows he was spot on.

“Why does that matter to you, of all things?” Sylvando tries to wrap his head around it. 

_ “Would you like some help?” _

_ Hendrik’s expression soured as he white-knuckles the grip of the sword in his hands. He raised the blade over his head, bringing it down on the dummy made of rucksack and wood. The sword got stuck there, and it took a minute for the recruit to pull it back out, but not without stumbling and falling back on his ass. The heir gave a giggle at the spectacle. _

_ “No. No, I don’t want your help,” Hendrik grumbled, pushing himself up. Don Rodrigo had sent him out here to train by himself after lessons were done for the day, after that humiliating loss from the same heir that was talking to him now. The Heliodorian had been made an example of what not to do. Hendrik wasn’t about to question the Don’s teachings, but it didn’t keep him from lashing out at the Don’s son. “Why would I want your help?” _

_ Norberto gave a hum, tapping his chin. “Because it’s much more beneficial to train with a moving target rather than a couple of logs.”  _

_ “Just so you can kick my ass again,” Hendrik readied his stance again, tearing his glare away from the heir. “No thanks.” _

_ “Your stance is off,” Norberto pointed out. “Move your foot back a little more.” The younger boy nudged Hendrik’s non-dominant foot back a bit. “I’d hope to think it’s so you can kick my ass in the future.” Norberto said quietly. _

_ “I can get to that point by myself.” Hendrik scoffed, rolling his eyes. _

_ “Not like this, you won’t.” Norberto pouted, placing his hands on his hips. “I’m not taking no for an answer.” _

_ Hendrik let out a groan, relaxing his muscles and letting his arms drop back to his sides. “What are you getting out of it, then? Surely you can’t be doing this out of the goodness of your heart.” _

_ “Actually, it is,” Norberto smiled as Hendrik relented. “Though I also don’t want Papi to just send you back to Heliodor...” _

_ “What?” Norberto must be lying, right? Hendrik wasn’t  _ that _ bad. _

_ “I’m just… worried! He doesn’t tell me things like that, but I overhear him talking about those kinds of things with Servantes!” Norberto stressed. _

_ Hendrik furrowed his brow, looking back down, now in thought. “You’re saying that to scare me.” _

_ “I am not!” Norberto huffed. “I wouldn’t lie to you! A knight’s word is his bond!” _

_ “I don’t think that applies here.” _

_ “Do you want my help or not?” _

_ Hendrik hesitated, then sighed. “Yes.” _

_ “Good. Pass me a sword.” _

“Hendrik!” Sylvando snaps his fingers in front of the knight’s face.

“…!” Hendrik steps back from the entertainer. “… My apologies.” He says with a little bow, keeping his eyes trained to the stone bricks beneath he and Sylvando’s feet. 

Sylvando frowns, looking up at the ceiling and sighing somewhat dramatically. “I won’t push for an answer, then,” He says, the knight in front of him visibly relaxing. Sylvando takes notice of that. “Let’s just take a little bit of a breather, alright?” He says softly. “We can set up camp by one of the holes leading outside. Maybe spend the night out there, okay?”

“I’d rather just have the trial done as soon as possible…” Hendrik murmurs.

“Well, we’re not gonna get it done with you acting like this.” Sylvando takes Hendrik’s wrist into his hand, leading him back the way they came until they came across the makeshift exit. 

As the entertainer leads him through the barren halls of the keep, Hendrik’s eyes couldn’t leave Sylvando’s hand. He couldn’t tell the minstrel why he was upset. That wouldn’t be professional of him. They were allies, nothing more, nothing less. When the Dark One was defeated, they’d never have to see each other ever again.

“Does this seem good, darling?” Sylvando had noticed that Hendrik was zoning out again. “You still have your tent, right? We could sleep outside, since there seems to be grass out there.” The smaller man was right, there were small gardens on either side of the peak of the building.

“Yes, I do,” Hendrik reaches back, taking off his bag and handing it to Sylvando, who takes it, and as soon as Hendrik stops supporting the pack, Sylvando goes down like a ton of bricks.

“What do you have in here, rocks?” Sylvando comments, groaning as he makes an attempt to lift the thing. 

Hendrik snorts, shaking his head. “Weapons and armor. That’s it.”

Sylvando digs around in Hendrik’s bag for the tent in question, tossing it out of the hole in the side of the building, crawling up after it, leaving the knight’s bag open and on the floor. “I do expect an answer sometime tonight, though.” He calls back into the dungeon.

Hendrik picks up his bag, setting it on the ledge before he, too, tries to get outside with Sylvando. It was a much more difficult process. The knight was a clumsy one. “Answer for what…?”

“Why you’ve been acting weird. Specifically around me.” The minstrel says, unravelling the tent and starting to set it up. “Besides your normal sulking. You’ve been short with me in particular.”

Hendrik didn’t want to answer, going to take over setting up the tent, himself. “I don’t see why that’s important.”

“Papi wanted us to work together, that’s why it’s important,” Sylvando stands up, crossing his arms. “I refuse to believe you’re that dense, honey.”

Hendrik just wasn’t thinking. He gives Sylvando a little grunt, pulling back from the tent once he finishes. 

“The point of this is to acknowledge each other’s strengths and weaknesses, so we can better work together.” Sylvando points out. “And all you’re going to accomplish with this is make it nearly impossible to do!”

Hendrik doesn’t look up at the minstrel. “… I thought you were dead.” He says quietly, barely audible over the crickets. 

It was Sylvando’s turn to remain silent, blinking in surprise as his arms fall back to his sides. “… What…?”

“I cared about you, and I thought you were dead,” Hendrik spits out. “Yggdrasil, I don’t- I wouldn’t have cared if you told me, I wouldn’t have minded that you didn’t want to take your father’s place. I wouldn’t have cared that you didn’t want to become a knight.” Hendrik presses a hand to his face. “… You had no intention of telling me, no intention of seeing me ever again.” The knight trembles slightly, trying to suppress his tremors.

Sylvando stares at Hendrik in silence, crouching back down and gently placing a hand on the larger man’s back, despite the armor in the way.

Hendrik sucks in a breath, rubbing his eyes with his gloved hands. “You joining the circus didn’t upset me,” He stresses. “It was just… how you did it.”

“I didn’t think word would spread that quickly,” Sylvando said quietly. “I didn’t think it’d get back to you. I was riding on the fact that we wouldn’t be seeing each other again regardless of whether I stayed in Puerto Valor or not.”

Hendrik sniffles.

“I wouldn’t- have been able to leave if I didn’t just… do it,” The minstrel tries to explain. “And- I wasn’t sure if you’d just go and tell Papi if you’d found out…” Sylvando’s eyes were trained downwards. “I know you have the utmost respect for him…”

“… No, I wouldn’t have,” Hendrik says once he was sure his voice wouldn’t give out on him. “That was up to you. I would have been stepping out of line. It was your responsibility to confront your father, not mine.”

The jester felt kind of foolish for it, now. He had thought about this just a little bit, though by the time he’d come to the conclusion, himself, it was too late. The conclusion that Hendrik wouldn’t have told anyone, it had already been years after he’d run away. He had the same sort of fear that he did with Don Rodrigo with the knight, though to a much lesser extent. He hadn’t wanted to confront Hendrik like this. He was sure the knight was mad at him, but… he just seemed upset, now. Hendrik was never really someone driven by rage. It was obvious to him now that Hendrik was just struggling with a lot of different emotions over the subject. 

“Come on, Henny,” Sylvando says gently, “Let’s just scoot off to bed…”

“There’s no goddess statue,” Hendrik states the obvious. “Someone should keep watch.”

“We’ll be fine, darling.” Sylvando cups his hands around one of the knight’s.

Hendrik looks down at the minstrel’s hands before he pulls his own away. He did not wish to fraternise with Sylvando. No, that was something he’d do with Norberto, but with how the minstrel didn’t bring up the past unless Hendrik alluded to it, the knight assumed that Sylvando didn’t  _ want _ to think about it. As much as he’d like to take as much comfort as he could with his new companions, that died with Jasper.

“Fire,” Hendrik says simply, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his palm. The leather of his gloves didn’t necessarily do the job, but it was dark enough that the lithe man before him couldn’t tell his eyes were bloodshot. He stands up, ready to go and gather… whatever, really.

“We have a distinct lack of firewood, darling.” Sylvando stated the obvious. There weren’t trees up here, anyways, and the majority of the Kingsbarrow was made out of stone and concrete. Nothing flammable, that’s for sure. He sets his chin in his palm. “We have non-perishable food, I don’t believe a fire would be absolutely necessary.”

Sylvando was right, Hendrik’s arms dropping to his sides. He just wanted the time alone. 

“I don’t blame you if you just want to get away for a little bit,” Sylvando says, almost on cue. “You don’t seem to be having the greatest of times around me.”

Hendrik clenches and unclenches his fists. He didn’t really want to admit that. It would have been an embarrassment to him, and embarrassment to the Don. He sits back down, his armour clanking noisily as he does.

“Changed your mind, huh?” Sylvando gives a little laugh.

“Quiet,” Hendrik grumbles. “Please.”

“At least you have the courtesy to ask nicely,” Sylvando hums, then shivering slightly. It was getting a little chilly. “I think I’m gonna hit the hay, if that’s alright with you. You can still get that alone time if you so please.” 

It baffles Hendrik that Sylvando didn’t sound upset by the implication that Hendrik didn’t want to be around him. Sure, the knight wouldn’t mention that outright, but he hadn’t denied it, either. “… That’s fine, Sylvando.” He says after a pause. “I couldn’t stop you even if it wasn’t acceptable, I’m sure.”

“Correctamundo,” Sylvando sings, taking his bag off of his shoulders, tossing it into the tent. “ _ Buenos noches _ , darling~!”

Hendrik lets out a grunt, but nothing more, as Sylvando wishes him a good night and ducks into the tent. The knight didn’t want to join him. He still had his reservations about the minstrel. Not to mention his general unwillingness to open up to anyone after the events at Heliodor Castle. He glares down at the ground. Who’s to say any relationship he had was just doomed to sour, anyways? Norberto was so quick to drop him after the knight was sent back to the bustling city, too. It wouldn’t go well.  _ It wouldn’t. _

But it felt like Hendrik was just fooling himself. Of course, his reservations were justified. He wasn’t sure if Sylvando would just up and leave again at any time, but there was also a part of him that longed for what he had before with the minstrel. He felt pathetic. Maybe he was just reaching out for something that he so long missed with Jasper. Something he would never get back. Even if he liked Sylvando, whole heartedly, he would feel guilty just using the minstrel as some sort of rebound.

Hendrik hated thinking about this. He glances over to the tent, staring at it for a good long moment before he starts to remove his armour, chestplate, pauldrons, just the top layer. It wasn’t like Sylvando was going to start cuddling the guy. The knight gives a sigh and prays to the Goddess that he doesn’t have any nightmares tonight. It would horrify him if that happened while only having the minstrel for company. And with Jasper’s passing, they’d only gotten worse.

The knight crawls into the tent, unsure if Sylvando was still awake or not. He hoped not. He lays himself down next to Sylvando, on his side to try and suppress his snoring, back pressed against Sylv’s. One night. It was just one night like this.


End file.
